


Roses

by celluloidbroomcloset



Category: The Avengers (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4707119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celluloidbroomcloset/pseuds/celluloidbroomcloset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steed brings Mrs. Peel a rose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses

He appeared at the door with a single rose and a certain look in the eye. 

Emma tilted her head to the side and favored him with a knowing smile. 

“Well, you’d better come in then.”

The tension filled the air like a fragrant steam, to make breathing labored and the skin prickly with a pleasurable heat. Emma could feel his eyes on her as she moved back to the sofa. She reclined at almost full length upon it, her feet extended towards the conical fireplace that formed the main source of heating in her flat. Steed spoke, in platitudes that meant very little, recounting perhaps his day, or the weather, or the drive over. But it was nothing save a pleasant buzzing in her ear. The cadence of his voice meant more than the words he spoke. 

She’d offered him a drink and as he poured it she enjoyed the shape of his shoulders when they shifted beneath his coat, the delicate change of musculature when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She could just envision the strong thighs beneath the calvary twill, and as her gaze flowed and ebbed across his shape she deliberately resisted dwelling on his more obvious charms. There would be time for that later. 

Steed must have sensed the tension, for he barely touched his brandy - just enough to wet his lips as he took his seat beside her. Emma turned the rose over in her hand, running the pads of her fingers over the sharp little thorns. He watched with eyes dark and storm-flecked. He leaned over her - she thought he was going to kiss her and parted her lips, but instead he simply plucked the rose from her fingers. Then he touched the velvet petals to her forehead. Emma closed her eyes when he trailed the flower down over them, touching each of her eyelids in turn, before dragging it across her still-parted lips. She could feel the heat rising from his skin and his breath as he came closer, cradling her head with one arm while continuing the downward progress of the rose, over her neck and clavicle to the open collar of her blouse. 

Steed flicked the buttons open and traced a line between her lace-covered breasts. When he reached her stomach, the sensations stopped and Emma opened her eyes to look not into his, but at his gaze, running the length of her half-bared body as the rose had done. The flower rested just above the waist of her trousers, its feathery kiss lingering there as Steed twirled it between his fingers. His eyes raised and mouth pressed against hers - chaste, in a promising, teasing sort of way, the kiss gradually deepened. Emma opened her mouth, searching for his tongue, at the same time willing his hand to find its way either higher or lower. He covered one breast, massaged it with his fingers and sent a warm tingle of lust vibrating between her legs. 

The rose pressed between them, one ill-placed thorn pricked her skin. The sharp pain made her gasp, made the world around them come alive with a bright violence. What was a haze now sharpened, like a rent in gossamer. A tiny rivulet of blood trickled from the tinier wound and Steed pressed his thumb to it to stem the tide. But Emma didn’t care - not for the pain, now gone, or for the potential stain upon her pristine white sofa. She shifted below him, parting her legs in a reflex. Steed picked up the rose and sank to his knees before her. 

The tickle of the soft petals between her legs made her stiffen, her head craning back against the cushions. She was bare now, and he had not even removed his coat. Yet she felt the loss of his hands, the loss of the rose, for the shortest minute - and heard the rough metallic clink of his belt unbuckling. She would have liked to see him, but by the time she opened her eyes he was kissing her again, one arm wrapped about her head, the other guiding himself into her. Emma gasped as she always did, the surprise of her body being invaded followed by the heady realization that he was in her. Rhythmic thrusts struck deep at her core - she let him do the work for now, he seemed to want to. His mouth still crushed on hers, such that she could only make strangled murmurs of encouragement. Grasping at his arms and spreading her legs, she gave over to him, utterly, held onto him as the rising tide came closer, rose, and finally broke in white hot jets. 

A return to normalcy did not take long, but Emma was still lying in a pleasant afterglow when she heard Steed buckling his belt again and opened her eyes. She turned her head to see the rose lying crushed on the sofa beside them. 

“A casualty,” she said, fingering the shredded petals. 

Steed grinned. “I’ll bring you another one.”


End file.
